The day before my period, I saw a note in my fiancé's memo. 【Predict tomorrow is her period, remember to prepare pads and painkillers in the bag.】 I smiled sweetly, touched by my fiancé's thoughtfulness. Until the next day, when my lower abdomen cramped with pain, I went through my bag with a pale face, but there was nothing inside. Dark red blood had soaked through my pants. Students pointed at my back and laughed. I thought he had simply forgotten. But the new intern teacher had just posted on her social media: 【Just started work and met Mr. Nice mentoring me! He even prepared pads and painkillers for me. This period doesn't hurt at all.】 The accompanying photo showed ibuprofen and a pad. The medicine was the brand I'd kept at home for years because of my cramps. The pad was the only brand I could use without an allergic reaction. I turned off my phone and stared at the ring on my middle finger for a long while, then got up and went to the principal's office to apply for the international teacher exchange program. Seven years, and he'd never remembered my cycle. There was no need for him to remember it anymore.
I submitted my application just as the dismissal bell rang. The principal looked at me with some hesitation, but finally couldn't hold back. "Miss Jennifer, you and Mr. Luke are having your wedding next month. Just two days ago you were still designing invitations. Now why..." I knew the rest of her unspoken sentence. The exchange program abroad required a minimum of three years before returning. How could newlyweds possibly endure such a long separation? Moreover, everyone at school knew that I had chased after Luke for four years, dated him for three more, and was finally about to walk down the aisle. How could I bear to leave him? But the prerequisite for reluctance to part is that both people like each other. Just now, I suddenly understood that the man who agreed to marry me perhaps didn't like me as much as I'd imagined. I picked at the dried blood in the creases of my fingers—it had gotten on my hands when I was padding myself with thick wads of toilet paper. I said, "He and I just aren't meant to be." "Principal, I'm asking you for a favor. Please don't tell anyone about this, okay?" She frowned, her eyes revealing a trace of pity. "Alright, I'll keep this confidential for you." "The earliest group leaving for the exchange program departs tomorrow. If you want, I can arrange for you to go with them." I nodded and bowed gratefully before leaving the office. My phone rang for the second time. I opened it and glanced—it was a message from Luke. "What's taking so long? It's been ten minutes since dismissal and you're still not down." Ever since Luke and I moved in together, I had to leave with him every day after work. "Please, Luke, you already have me—it would be too pitiful for you to go home alone at night." Even though he taught seniors while I taught freshmen, and Luke's dismissal time was a full two hours later than mine, requiring me to sit in the office for two extra hours, I never found it hard. But today, after he'd only waited ten extra minutes for me, he was already getting impatient. I pressed my lips together and carefully examined my feelings, but I didn't feel the suffocating pain I'd expected. That's when I knew I'd completely let go. I sent back a message. "Still have some things to do, you go ahead." Then I turned off my phone and didn't look again. I returned to the office to pack up my textbooks, organized the materials and class information that needed to be handed over, and an hour later, I finally stretched my aching shoulders and left the school gate. I took out my phone to call a cab when a horn honked behind me, startling me. I turned around to see Luke's car stopped behind me. I froze in place until he honked again and stuck his head out. "Get in the car already. Why are you standing there like an idiot?" I snapped back to reality and thought about the large bloodstain on the back of my pants that might dirty his car. I pulled open the passenger door, about to sit down. Luke glanced at me and handed me a black plastic bag, suddenly speaking. "Wait." I took the bag, momentarily confused about what he meant. "You know your period is coming and you still don't know to bring a pad? Jennifer, you're a 28-year-old adult. Can you have some basic self-care skills?" "Walking around school all day with blood all over your ass—so many students asked me if you had a terminal illness. How embarrassing." Embarrassing? The smell of blood seemed to fill my nose again. Actually, I had remembered to bring pads, but one memo from Luke made me forget. I thought he'd finally learned to keep me in his heart. In the end, the person he truly kept in his heart was someone else.
I opened the plastic bag. Inside lay a pink pad covered in a thick layer of dust—clearly a brand that couldn't sell, randomly bought from a roadside convenience store. "If you really didn't have any, you could've borrowed one from someone. Why did you have to hole up at school refusing to come out, making me wait for you for a whole hour?" "Hurry up and go change, then get in the car. Don't get it dirty." He kept talking on and on. I looked at his beautifully shaped thin lips and only felt utterly exhausted. I closed the plastic bag and said weakly, "Luke, I can't use this brand." To be precise, I couldn't use any mainstream pads on the market because they all had adhesive backing, and I was severely allergic to glue. Even touching it would make my whole body turn red. Much less during my most vulnerable time, sticking something with glue to my most private area. So I only used one specific brand—the only one I could use. Actually, when I first got together with Luke, I'd mentioned this. "Luke, I'm allergic to glue and can only use this one brand of pads. If you see it on sale, remember to stock up for me, okay?" Luke didn't even look up from his game, scoffing. "So high maintenance." My fingers froze on my phone screen. I forced out an ugly smile. "Sorry, I'll stock up myself. This is kind of troublesome, and you don't really understand..." He always spoke to me like this, occasionally like he was wielding a club, beating down on me without warning, leaving me hurt and at a loss. But aside from this, he was actually pretty good to me. After we moved in together, he did all the housework and cooked well, even fattening me up by five pounds. Whatever I wanted to buy, he wouldn't stop me. Even when I brought home weird decorations that didn't match his home's style at all, he'd just smile helplessly at most. "Childish." Over time, I thought that was just his personality—he didn't like remembering other people's habits and could be pretty cutting sometimes. Moreover, I was the one who pursued Luke first, so I used the occasional sweetness he gave me to dilute the pain, enduring like this for three years. Until I endured all the way to today, when I couldn't endure anymore. "Why can't you use it?" He'd asked me this question seventeen times. I'd explained sixteen times. This time, I wasn't going to explain anymore. I just casually tossed the pad in the trash and said flatly, "If I say I can't use it, I can't use it. Since you're afraid I'll dirty your car, I'll just take a cab home." His frown deepened, but in the end he still opened the car door and stuffed me into the passenger seat. "It's too late. Would it be safe for you to take a cab? Forget it, just my bad luck. I'll go wash the car tomorrow." Again, this mix of good and bad. I gripped the seatbelt in front of me, my throat tight. I simply took out my phone and contacted the wedding photo company we'd booked long ago. 【Hello, I'd like to cancel the wedding photoshoot scheduled for next week. What procedures do I need to follow?】 The contact I'd labeled "Wedding Photoshoot" kept switching between her name and "typing..." over a dozen times before she finally sent a message. 【Miss Jennifer, three days ago you changed your wedding photos to a couple's birthday art photos, and Mr. Luke contacted us to move up the shoot. The edited photos will be ready tonight.】 【Your husband didn't tell you?】 My fingertip hovered over the screen. After a long moment, I realized it was shaking badly. I used my other hand to hold my wrist so I wouldn't drop the phone. I turned to glance at Luke. He looked straight ahead, driving seriously, everything like before. Perhaps sensing my gaze, Luke tilted his head slightly, his tone unfriendly. "Why are you looking at me? Can't handle being criticized a little?" I didn't respond. Once my hands steadied again, I slowly typed. "Can I see the photos?" The shop owner went through the typing motion several times again before sending the photos, along with a ten-second video. 【At the time, your husband repeatedly assured us he wouldn't cause us trouble, so we agreed to the change and early shoot. Miss Jennifer, please don't make things difficult for us...】 I had no mind to read what else she sent. I opened the photos, and a familiar face appeared in my pupils, stinging my eyes red. The person in the photo was Ivy, the school's new intern teacher—the same person Luke had given pads and painkillers to. There were many photos. I flipped through them one by one. Luke appeared in every single one. The two wore matching outfits, looking like an intimate couple. Finally, I clicked on the video. Ivy seemed a bit tired from the shoot and pouted in complaint. "My shoulders hurt so much. Luke, help me rub them." In those short ten seconds of video, I saw another side of Luke—incredibly gentle in a way I couldn't believe. "Alright, you little princess. Just one more set of photos. Hang in there a bit longer, and I'll treat you to a big meal after." Only then did Ivy smile again, happily raising both hands. "Yay!" My eyes felt sore. I reached up to touch them, thinking I'd feel salty tears, but there was nothing. I couldn't cry over Luke anymore. It just made me remember some things.
After we got engaged, I'd mentioned many times that we should get our wedding photos taken early, or there wouldn't be time. But Luke refused. "I don't like taking photos. You know that. Wedding photos are only for looking at—completely useless. Why do you insist on forcing me to do something meaningless?" I bit my lip and said softly, "They are useful, Luke. When we're old and can't remember each other's faces clearly, we can take out our wedding photos to look at. And we can show our future children how happy Mom and Dad were back then." "I promise, just two settings—one for the wedding reception and one outdoor shot, okay? I definitely won't tire you out." He glanced at me and spat out one word. "Dramatic." Even so, I wouldn't give up. I kept pestering him for a long time, getting hurt to tears by Luke's harsh words several times before he finally reluctantly agreed to take wedding photos with me. To get it done in one go, I did tons of research—from outfits to locations to photographers. I often stayed up until two or three in the morning making plans, then forced myself to be energetic for class the next day. Because the wedding date was close, I even paid extra to skip the queue and rush the editing. But the wedding photoshoot I'd carefully selected was secretly given by Luke to someone else. The man who claimed he didn't like taking photos used all his patience to accompany Ivy through five different settings, making me unable to tell whether he truly didn't like taking photos or just didn't like taking them with me. The car shook and stopped in the underground parking garage. I opened Ivy's social media—sure enough, she'd posted another set of photos, thoughtfully covering Luke's face. "Ding ding ding, the best birthday gift I received early this year is, of course, beautiful photos. Thanks to a certain someone!" Luke stood outside the car and took out his phone. The next second, his like appeared on Ivy's post. I looked at that tiny red heart and couldn't help but laugh. He never actively liked my posts. "We're home. Why are you still sitting in the car?" Seeing I hadn't moved, Luke knocked on the car window. I looked at him through the glass and suddenly spoke. "You already went to take photos with Ivy. Why not just take the wedding photos I booked? You two match pretty well anyway." Luke's expression stiffened for a moment, then he frowned. "Jennifer, what are you going crazy about?" "You changed my wedding photos and went to take birthday art photos with someone else, and now you're asking me what I'm going crazy about?" "Luke, you're the one who's crazy!" I thought I could hold it in, but in the end I still shouted my grievances. I stared hard at Luke, wanting to hear an answer. He just clicked his tongue impatiently. "Ivy just started working. She has no one to celebrate her birthday with. As her mentor, of course I have a responsibility to take care of her." "And it's just wedding photos. If we can't do it this time, we'll do it next time. Why such a big reaction?" I looked at his casual expression, and all my anger dissipated. "Forget it." I said, completing the second half of the sentence in my mind: We won't need them anyway. Only then did Luke's expression relax. He replied to another message on his phone. After I got out of the car, he got back in. "Alright, you go back first. Ivy's birthday is tomorrow. She wants to treat the school teachers to dinner but can't handle it alone. I'm going over tonight to help her prep." I blinked. I'd originally wanted to talk to him tonight about canceling the wedding, but now it seemed unnecessary. I nodded and returned alone to our new house. I took out my suitcase, but looking at the room full of traces of my life, I didn't take anything with me—only the large stock of pads and painkillers I'd accumulated. Then I called to cancel the wedding banquet hotel. The deposit was non-refundable. The money Luke had given me was all stored on one card, which I placed on the nightstand, not a cent missing. Finally, I took off the engagement ring and placed it on top of the card. Then I dragged my not-too-heavy suitcase and got in a car to the airport. Just before takeoff, I sent Luke a message. "Luke, let's just forget about getting married. I've explained things to both our parents. Finally, I wish you find someone you truly like." The message sent. I put my phone on airplane mode. Leaning back in my seat, I fell into a deep sleep. When I opened my eyes again, I'd arrived at my destination. I turned off airplane mode, and instantly hundreds of missed calls flooded in.
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